


Silent Sacrifice

by Mara_DragonMaster



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Loki (Marvel), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Big Brother Thor (Marvel), Brotherly Angst, Brotherly feels, Coming back to life, Hurt Thor (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injury Recovery, Loki's not dead, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Protective Loki (Marvel), Sakaar (Marvel), The Arena, Thor Angst, Thor brings him back, Vengeful Loki, not dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 08:32:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19103494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mara_DragonMaster/pseuds/Mara_DragonMaster
Summary: It's been almost six years. Loki wakes up. He's not sure how, but Thor is there, and he's smiling, and he says it's all okay... Thanos is gone, defeated, the Snap undone. And now they're safe. They're on Sakaar, and Thor made a deal with the Grandmaster to bring Loki back to life. It's all good. Thor goes to the Arena every morning, and returns every evening.Except that Loki knows the Grandmaster.And he wonders what deal Thor made.





	1. Chapter 1

Loki woke slowly, warm and quiet, secure and still. There was silence around him. For a moment he was content to just lay, floating as he was, knowing he must be medicated up to his eyeballs because he had that absent-limb sensation, although when he wiggled his fingers and toes they were most definitely there.

 

“Loki?”

 

The voice was low and familiar, deeply familiar, and Loki tried to open his eyes, to rebuff the speaker for waking him, but his eyelids would only quiver.

 

“It’s all right, Loki. It’s all right now. Go ahead and sleep… we have all the time in the world.”

 

That didn’t seem right. He frowned, his skin pinching, but he was still floating and darkness slowly pulled him under again.

  

* * *

 

 

Darkness was his constant companion. Quiet black, soft night, a stream of unconsciousness. He dreamed. Mother’s gardens, Father’s stories, tall grass whipping past their small hands as he and his brother ran through the fields, laughing, chasing a bird. They never caught it. But it was fun to try.

 

He surfaced only slightly, enough to feel the softness of sheets and the warmth and weight of a heavy quilt. Earthy, spicy, musty scents filled his nostrils. Ozone. He was in the Healing Rooms, then.

 

He wondered which of their adventures had gone south this time.

 

The next time he surfaced he tried to open his eyes. He wanted to see if he was the only victim of their most recent escapade, or if Thor was in the bed next to him. His lids lifted a little this time, but it did him no good. His sight was bleary and all he could make out through the crack his lids allowed were vague, cloudy colors.

 

Well, someone must be there. Someone was always in the healing rooms. He moved his tongue, moistening his mouth, shocked at how weak even that motions made him, and then he attempted to speak. A sore, rasping sound was all that escaped.

 

Norns, how his throat ached!

 

Colors moved and blurred in front of him, and then a warm hand -- a hand that he would recognize anywhere, calluses catching on the fabric of the sheets – laid on his chest, firm and strong, fingers spread.

 

“Be still.” The low voice said gently. “Your throat’s still healing.” There was a huff. “All of you is, actually.”

 

He swallowed, moved his tongue, licked his lips. “Thorrr…”

 

“I am here, brother. I am here.”

 

The weight on his chest was comforting, but he was becoming aware of how much he ached.

 

What in the Nine Realms had _happened_?

 

“Do you remember anything?” His brother asked gently. There was the sound of crockery clinking together, of liquid pouring.

 

He shook his head. Moved it to one side, actually, but it was what he could manage.

 

His brother stilled.

 

Loki’s alarms went off. He blinked and raced his thoughts, thinking, thinking hard… what was the last thing he remembered?! Fighting to think dashed away the mists of sleep and rest and floating faster than anything, and his mind quickly pricked awake, whirring at lightning speed.

 

Sakaar.

 

Hela.

 

Ragnarok.

 

Thanos.

 

His eyes flew open. Or at least, fluttered to half-mast, blinking desperately, trying to focus on the shape he believed to be his brother. The colors sorted themselves into groups and shapes, and soon he could see a very fuzzy figure that he was able to recognize as Thor.

 

“Thaan—” he rasped. “—osss.”

 

The fingers on his chest pressed down slightly, but then the hand moved and held his arm, and rubbed gently. “Yes.” Thor murmured. “Thanos happened.”

 

“Whaaat—”

 

“Save your voice, brother.” Thor said, carefully slipping his hand beneath Loki’s head and lifting, gently. The warm rim of a mug touched his lips, and Loki tasted hot tea. It slipped across his tongue and down his throat with honeyed ease, and he drank gratefully. He felt much better after, and when Thor laid him back and put away the cup he swallowed experimentally a few times. His throat _ached_.

 

“How?” he whispered, unable to do more, but he looked meaningfully at Thor and waved a finger around.

 

The last thing he remembered, now, was his attempt to have Thanos kill _him_ , so that he would not kill Thor. It had obviously worked… though why he was still here remained a mystery.

 

He blinked, his vision clearing even more, and now he could make out Thor’s features. He stared in shock. Thor’s face was almost gaunt, though not with thinness… Loki frowned, trying to pin it. Old. Not gaunt. Old. He bore lines around his eyes and his mouth that had not been there before, a heaviness in his blue eyes that only long age or deep experience brings. His hair still short, though buzzed with new designs on the sides, and his beard was trimmed short, like it had been many years ago.

 

He had two eyes. But the missing one was brown.

 

Loki frowned and blinked, curious.

 

Thor realized what Loki was staring at, his green eyes so intense, and a small smile touched his lips as he reached up and touched the skin below the eye. “It is a bionic eye.” He said, and dropped his hand to his lap, his manner easy and relaxed. “It was gifted to me by a friend.”

 

Loki pressed his mouth and turned the corners down, lifting his brows. It was an interesting look.

 

“Much has happened, brother.” Thor murmured, settling on the edge of the bed, his hand still on Loki’s chest. “First of all, it has been almost six years since the Snap. Thanos won, we lost, half of the universe disappeared, I killed him but it was too late, and five years passed. _But_ then the Avengers discovered time travel. And we were able to go back and gather the stones from different times in the past and make our own Gauntlet. We undid the Snap, Thanos from the past arrived, we killed him, and I went off with a new group of friends called the Morons. They are captained by a Rabbit. My very good friend, who gave me this eye.” He pointed needlessly to his eyes, and then went on. “We traveled all over the galaxy together, but then I heard a rumor. Rumors float around all the time, but this one I overheard in a bar from a guy who knew a guy who’d been friends with a guy whose brother had been brought back to life by the Grandmaster. So I left the Morons and went looking for proof.”

 

Loki stared at him, blinking slowly, trying to process the flow of words. He was confused; if what Thor had just said was true, then he had been dead for over five years.

 

“I found many more rumors, but not so much proof, so I went to Sakaar and met with the Grandmaster himself. I’d barely dared to hope, couldn’t stand to hope, actually, but it turned out… the rumors were true.” His classic smile flashed. “So I went to the last coordinates of the Statesman, and there wasn’t much left after this long. Almost everything had gone floating off or been scavenged. But I found you.” This smile was quicker, and the hand on his chest moved again to his arm, strong fingers curling around his bicep. “I found you. Space is actually wondrously adept at preserving bodies.” His voice caught on the last word.

 

Loki saw the age in the blue eyes, and wondered what else had been preserved in the wreckage.

 

“I looked for Heimdall, too. But he… he had not escaped the explosion of the ship intact. I could not… I could not.”

 

Loki closed his eyes and swallowed. Thor’s voice had trailed off in apology, and the hand on his arm tightened.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Loki did not answer. Couldn’t anyway, unless a croak sufficed. But he moved his hand (how _weak_ he was), turned it over, and held the point of Thor’s elbow.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time he woke it was day, and Thor was not there. A woman was there instead, draped in white sleeveless robes, and she fed him hot broth and more honey tea, and checked the bandages he hadn’t realized he was wearing. She removed them, and he saw the remains of the damage he’d sustained on the Statesman.

 

It was a – grisly sight.

 

He was definitely healing, however, and by mid-afternoon his throat was sufficiently recovered to hoarsely whisper. The woman – she said her name was Maamen – gave him throat drops to suck on, which helped even more, and he was finally able to ask: “Where’s Thor?”

 

Maamen was turned on her stool, sorting through a collection of ointments and salves. “He is at his work.” She said, turning back with a jar, and she scooped some of the ointment and began to apply it to his throat. Her face was not pretty, but it was handsome in its own way, and it was lined with many, many years of life, though her bound-up hair held no grey in it yet.

 

“What is that?” he whispered.

 

“Entertainment in the Arena.” She said simply.

 

As enamored as the Grandmaster had been of Thor’s lightning abilities, Loki wasn’t surprised he would make Thor part of his show. His eyes slipped shut, her hand smearing the ointment on his skin soothing. “How long… have we…” he paused and swallowed, moving the throat drop around in his mouth. “Been here?”

 

“Two weeks.” She sat back, picked up a rag, and carefully wiped her fingers.

 

He liked the way her accent framed her words. It was like listening to music. Then he registered what she’d said, and he opened his eyes and turned his head, staring. “What? How?”

 

“Did your brother not tell you?” She lifted a soft length of bandage, and wrapped it loosely around his neck, to keep the ointment from rubbing off.

 

“I haven’t been awake.” His throat was beginning to feel raw from so much talking, but he sucked more on the throat drop and ignored it.

 

Maamen sighed and settled her hands in her lap and looked at him, blinking her brown eyes. A lock of curly hair escaped the ribbons tying up the pile on her head. “Three weeks ago he came here, demanding to see the Grandmaster. He wanted to know if the master could truly bring back the dead.” She said, and it struck him how much she reminded him of his mother, and Eir the Healer, and Idunn in her orchard. “They talked for a long time. I don’t know what was said. But the Grandmaster can, yes, revive the dead if the circumstances are right. It depends on how the person died, what was damaged. You understand.”

 

Loki did.

 

“But he only ever does it for a price.” She continued. “A deal was made, and your brother left to retrieve your body. You were frozen when he brought you in. It’s what made it possible, after all this time, for you to be saved. You had been so well preserved.”

 

That made a sick jolt go through his core. He tried not to imagine Thor picking through the bodies, the pieces of bodies, the ruins, floating there in the nothing of space.

 

“It took a few days, but you were revived, and then you had to be supported while the injuries that killed you were repaired. Your throat had been crushed, and your neck snapped. It took over a week for those to heal enough that movement was safe again and the braces could be removed.”

 

No wonder his throat was sore. But at least now he knew it was a healing pain. “Any lasting damage?” he rasped.

 

She shook her head. “No.”

 

Weariness was pulling at him, reminding him that he had only truly been awake for about a day, that he was far from completely recovered. His life-threatening wounds may have been healed, but the rest of the injuries had been left to heal on their own. “When will Thor return?”

 

Maamen’s expression was gentle, like the warm look of a mother cat, and she leaned over and carefully pulled the sheet and quilt up, tucking it comfortably around him. “When it is dark.” She murmured. “Now sleep.”

 

There was more he wanted to know, he was sure of it, but his thoughts were slowing and muddying and his eyes were slipping closed, and the bed was warm and soft, and he fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

The bed moved, dipping and tilting next to him, and he opened his eyes. Yellow-orange lights glowed on the walls, turned down low, and Thor was there, sitting on the edge of the mattress. He looked tired, but he smiled when Loki woke. “I’m sorry.” Thor whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

Loki swallowed and found his throat not as sore as it had been. He could talk above a whisper, though his voice sounded hoarse. “You were gone a long time.”

 

Thor’s hair was wet, and he was in loose, sleeveless pajamas, shirt and pants. His hand was on Loki’s arm, fingers curled around his bicep, just as they had been before. “I’m working in the Arena.” He said.

 

Loki didn’t dare nod, but he moved his chin a little. “That’s what Maamen said.”

 

Thor smiled again, his features obscured and shadowed in the barely-lit room. “She’s a good person. She volunteered to stay with you while I’m at work.”

 

Loki blinked. “I thought she was a healer.”

 

“She is.” Thor lifted one knee, hooking the foot under his other leg, and settled again, relaxed. “I met her my first day. I had to visit the infirmary, and we ended up talking, and she offered her services. I was glad. Before it was just whoever was free, but she went to her manager and took over permanently. I think he was relieved.”

 

“She is kind.” Loki paused, glancing at his brother’s form, looking for any injuries. He was surprised to see none. “She told me what happened.”

 

For a split second Thor’s face darkened, but it was gone as quickly as it had arrived, and he smiled, his mouth pinched together. “Did she?” he asked quietly.

 

“Thor,” Loki watched his face closely. “What was the deal you made?”

 

Thor looked down at his other hand, resting on his knee, and then he looked up again and there was his smile. Again. “I agreed to work in the Arena, every day, till you’re well enough to leave.”

 

Something about the answer didn’t seem right, for some reason. Loki knew the Grandmaster, had spent weeks currying favor with him not that long ago – actually, years ago – he still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around that. But he knew that as genial as the Grandmaster was, he always got the most out of everything. There was no way the man would have agreed to something like this without a price.

 

A high one.

 

“What do you do in the Arena?” he asked, his glass-green eyes unblinking. Watching every shadow, ever flicker of Thor’s face.

 

The smile stayed. “I told you,” Thor said, gently squeezing Loki’s arm. “I work there. I’m the entertainment. Now,” he let go of Loki’s arm and twisted, checking the quilt, straightening it, tucking it anew around Loki’s shoulders and under his chin. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

 

“A little thirsty.”

 

Thor nodded. “I’ll get you some tea.” He said, and stood up.


	2. Chapter 2

When Loki woke the next morning, Thor was gone again. The morning light poured in through the window on his right, and Loki looked around at the room. It was like a Midgardian hotel room, he saw. From where he lay on the bed, he could look straight across at the door, and then to the left of that was the corner of the room with a couch and a corner table and lamp, and then following the next wall there was a small kitchenette, and then the door to the bathroom. A small table and two chairs sat in the center of the room.

 

Not much. But enough.

 

At least it was private.

 

There was the sound of voices outside the door, and then a gentle knock, and then it opened. Loki saw a long hall stretching away, away, walled on the left and windowed on the right. Two guards stood on either side of the door, their backs to him.

 

Maamen had a large bag draped over her shoulder, and she smiled when she saw he was awake, and shut the door behind herself. “Good morning.”

 

“Good morning.”

 

“I think you can have something a little more substantial than broth, today.” She said, crossing the room and pulling the bag from her shoulder. She set it on the kitchenette counter and pulled out some small parcels. “Something still easy on your throat.” There was the clinking of dishes as she readied a tiny skillet and a tiny sauce pan on the two-burnered cooktop. Then she turned and walked over to him. “How are you feeling?”

 

Loki swallowed experimentally, and tried moving his limbs and head a little. “Better.” He said. “Surprisingly.” He pushed up, wondering if he could sit, and found that the ache of his body was far less. But his muscles shook, still weak, so weak, and Maamen quickly put her hands around him and helped him, adjusting the pillows so that he could lean back.

 

“Better?”

 

He nodded. “I am still weak.” He admitted, glancing down at his arms sharply, frowning.

 

“Yes, well, you _were_ dead and frozen for almost six years.”

 

He shot a look at her, but she was back at the stove, warming the pan, filling the pot with water, opening packages and throwing some herbs and spices and a couple veggies in the sizzling pan. She hummed as she worked. “Did you see your brother last night? He came in late.”

 

“Yes.” Loki adjusted the sheet and quilt over his legs and laid his head back on the pillows with a sigh. “He looked surprisingly healthy for someone who’d spent all day in the Arena.”

 

He was watching her from the corner of his eyes, but she was still humming and mixing the veggies and seasoning the water in the pot, adding red flakes and a spoonful of what looked like dehydrated yellow something. The water soon began to boil, smelling like chicken, and she opened the last package and threw in what looked like noodles.

 

“Maamen, what does he do there? What deal did he make with the Grandmaster?”

 

She sighed, her head dropping, and then she turned. “Loki,” she said. “You know how much the Grandmaster loves new and unusual things. Your brother’s powers are certainly new and unusual. And he is nearly indestructible. People still talk of the fight between him and the Green Champion. So rather than waste such a contender in the regular fights, the Grandmaster asked him to be the entertainment. They can do almost anything to him, and he does not injure. His lightning is more impressive than the fireworks.” She smiled. “Do not worry for your brother.”

 

Her words were meant to make him feel better. They should have made him feel better. It made sense. It was logical. It fit in with what he knew of the Grandmaster. But there was a sadness in her eyes that belied her smile, and Loki wondered if he was getting the whole truth.

 

The soup was delicious. Simple, with it’s few veggies and soft noodles, but the broth was flavorful and a little spicy, and did wonders for his throat.

 

He still slept a lot. Floating frozen through space for years had done nothing for his strength, and he found that his muscles had far to go to regain his former abilities. But Maamen was pleased, and thought that in another day or two he could start doing some exercises. Asgardians, she commented, were certainly a hardy and quick-healing breed.

 

He didn’t bother to correct her.

 

This time he was awake when Thor arrived, about a half hour after the sun had set. The mumbling of voices alerted them to his arrival, and then the door opened, and he stepped in, head hanging, shoulders weary. Loki’s gaze sharpened, flickering over his brother.

 

Armor, similar to what he had worn before, but – if Loki was any expert – completely useless. It was for show only. Thor’s hair was completely messed up. Something was dried and crusted on his cheek and neck, but Loki couldn’t tell what it was.

 

Sensing his brother’s gaze, Thor looked up, and the weary expression was immediately gone. He smiled, and stood at the foot of the bed. “Loki! You’re looking well.”

 

Loki stared at him. “You’re oiled.”

 

Thor glanced down at his arms, spreading his fingers, the light reflecting on his skin. He grimaced. “Sweaty and gross.” He corrected, and stepped back. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said, and began edging his way to the bathroom.

 

Maamen nodded, her expression quiet. “I left a change of clothes in there for you.”

 

Thor gave her a quick smile, gratefulness in his eyes. “Thank you.” He murmured, and disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking shut.

 

Loki immediately turned on Maamen as she stood, looking down at the carpet, a soft breath leaving her. She shot him a smile, straightened her shoulders, and rubbed her hands on her dress. “Well,” she said. “I’ll get him something to eat. He must be famished. Do you want something too?” Without waiting for him to reply she stepped to the kitchenette and began bustling.

 

It was a good forty-five minutes before Thor emerged from the bathroom, clean and fresh, steam puffing gently out and dispersing as soon as he opened the door. His face was red from the heat, and he shuffled in slippers and his pajamas to the cooktop. Sniffing deeply, his eyes closed. “That smells good.”

 

Maamen looked proud. “It’s your favorite. I made plenty of it, so eat as much as you want.”

 

He smiled and put a hand to his stomach. “When will it be ready?”

 

“In a few minutes.” She waved a hotpad at him. “Go speak to your brother. I’ll bring it to you.”

 

Thor reluctantly left the steaming, good smells, and wandered over to the bed. His eyes brightened when they locked on Loki, and he smiled, sitting down on the bed. “You look better and better every day!”

 

“Of course I do.” Loki retorted. “Though I do wonder when I’ll ever be allowed to leave this bed.”

 

Thor’s eyes crinkled, and Loki shot him a glance from the corner of his eyes, and carefully kept his mouth still. They both knew he was still so weak he could barely make it to the bathroom, but he _had_ made it today, on his own, and it was embarrassing how triumphant that made him feel.

 

But Thor looked so tired. There had been little light in his eyes when he’d come back, but now, sitting at Loki’s side, some of the light had begun to prick back into his eyes. Loki kept staring at them, wondering if he would ever get used to the mismatched colors, and thinking that somehow – he frowned – somehow, it suited Thor.

 

The scarring didn’t. But there was not much to be done about that.

 

“You, however, look awful.” Loki said.

 

The corner of Thor’s mouth twitched up, but he didn’t respond as Loki had thought he would. The snort was only somewhat humored, and the drop of his chin and flicker of his eyes the opposite of his usual flash of mirth and resounding laughter.

 

“Yes, well,” he shifted, hooking a leg under his knee. “It was a long day.”

 

“Really? With no Hulk to batter you, I’m surprised.”

 

“It was not… difficult.” Thor said, and looked up and smiled again. “Just… long.”

 

Loki opened his mouth to say more, but there was a clattering of pans and then Maamen turned around, chest rising with a forced breath, and she smiled at them both and held up two plates. “Supper is ready.”

 

* * *

 

Loki watched his brother in the dark, curled on his side, arm tucked under his head, a mirror image of Thor. Except that he was propped up on his elbow.

 

Thor’s shoulders rose and fell, gently, rhythmically, his lashes dark against his cheeks.

 

Thanos had won.

 

And then Thor and the Avengers had undone the Titan, and destroyed him.

 

He was sobered by the sacrifice made by the Man of Iron. He hadn’t particularly like the man – of course, he didn’t particularly like any of them, except for a grudging respect of the one called Banner – but he knew the pain and resignation of realizing that the only way for everyone else to live was to die. He could respect that. And he could look at Thor, and see the wear and tear of the years in his face, on his form. There was a softness to him that hadn’t been there before.

 

After supper Maamen had left them, and Thor had told him, in grandiose and humorous style, of his five-year descent. Loki had laughed at first at Thor’s description of himself, but then he’d stopped. It wasn’t funny. He’d stared at Thor, listened to his exuberant tone and his hearty laughter, and seen the lines around his eyes and the shadows hidden deep within them, and his heart had ached.

 

The last decade had been anything but kind to his brother.

 

In a moment of weakness, he’d reached out, and covered Thor’s hand with his own, fingers tight. Thor’s voice had stuttered to a stop, and he’d stared, his eyes filling and a muscle in his jaw suddenly popping.

 

“I’m sorry.” Loki had whispered.

 

Thor had raised his eyes and met Loki’s, the green gaze hard and un-mocking, serious and knowing, and his face and eyes had reddened and he’d flashed a grin. He’d swiped a hand at his cheek. “It’s fine.” He’d whispered, and grinned again. “You’re here now.” He’d said, and clapped a hand over Loki’s. “That’s all that matters.”

 

“I’m still having a hard time wrapping my mind around that.” Loki had pulled his hand free and leaned back against the headboard, cushioned and propped with pillows.

 

“Well, you did make me a promise.”

 

“The sun has yet to shine on us both, _brother_.”

 

The smile and the light had fallen from Thor’s face, and Loki’d wished he hadn’t snapped. He didn’t know why he’d suddenly felt irritated and angry, why Thor’s absence when he woke every morning bothered him so much, but it did, and he had.

 

Now he looked at his sleeping brother, and his mind was racing. There was no one big thing, but a million small things, things that probably meant nothing, _were_ nothing, but somehow the collection of them made him uneasy.

 

Thor’s face twitched, his brows pulled together, and a foot shifted under the quilt where Thor had buried himself.

 

“What deal did you make, Thor?” Loki whispered.

 

* * *

 

When he woke the next morning, Thor was gone again. Loki stretched his arms and legs, and was pleased to not feel weak. He swung his feet to the floor and stood up. His legs were steady beneath him, and when he walked it didn’t feel as though he had weights dragging his steps.

 

In another few days, he would be sufficiently recovered for them to leave. He did not deny that the thought relieved him, for he did not want to stay on Sakaar any longer than they had to. A feeling, a need to leave, to get away, had been filling him since yesterday, and he had been surviving long enough to trust his instincts.

 

Maamen came again that day, made him breakfast, chatted about some of the goings-on of the tower, of the games, and anything else. She asked him for more stories about himself, of his adventures, of his life, and she was cheerful and humming.

 

Loki knew her well enough now to know that much of it was forced.

 

But she always brushed aside his questions and moved on with a practiced ease that he found disturbing, frustrating, and impressive.

 

The sun finally set. Maamen made supper, prepared their plates, left Thor’s on the counter. They ate, and waited.

 

“He’s late.” Loki said, pacing, his eyes sharp and on the door.

 

Maamen said nothing, pushing around the last bite of her food.

 

Finally they put away supper, and washed the dishes. Loki was feeling frantic, but Maamen hushed his worries and said that she was sure Thor was fine, that he had just been held up. Perhaps by fans. But her eyes were pinched and her mouth dropped low and grim.

 

She had to leave. She had other duties, things she had to do at the infirmary, and reluctantly she bade Loki goodnight.

 

When the door clicked shut, Loki swirled around and began to pace like an animal, his hands opening and closing, his heart racing.

 

There was nothing he could do.

 

He checked the bathroom, the light left on by Maamen, and he noticed the neatly folded pajamas on the sink counter, and the bottle of healing ointment, smelling of herbs used for pain relief.

 

Loki returned to the room.

 

At last he sat down on the bed, his hands clasped, his elbows resting on his knees. He was tired, exhausted, reminded again that though he was recovering he was not yet fully recovered. But he was stubborn, and refused to go to sleep.

 

The darkness surrounded him, broken only by the soft, warm glow of the wall lights that mimicked the light of lanterns.

 

A sound rustled in the hall. Something brushed against the door, the handle shook, turned, opened. Thor leaned against the frame with his one hand, the other pushing the door open, his head down, his legs shaking. His breaths came tightly, and when he took a step a sound escaped, a sound he quickly bit back, so obviously trying to be quiet because Loki was supposed to be asleep.

 

Loki shot to his feet as Thor shut the door, saw his slow, dragging, painful steps, his hands clutching the wall, the couch, sinking to his knees with a child-like whimper, and then a harsh swallow, still trying to be quiet.

 

He was on his knees, catching his brother’s face, holding him under the arm, hissing his name as Thor dragged himself forward on his hands and knees, agonizingly, his teeth bared and his eyes squeezed shut. Towards the light of the bathroom, his arms shaking.

 

“Thor… Thor…”

 

“Bathroom.” Came the choked reply.

 

Loki helped him, supported him, smelled thick, heavy scents, felt something dry and crusted on his skin, saw the skin of his face pulled so tight and his teeth bared, clenched, his eyes almost disappeared in the lines of pain. The corners of his mouth were dry and cracked, and hard, sharp fury was rising through Loki’s core, drawing his brows, brightening his eyes, but Thor would not answer his hissed questions, his single aim the bathroom door. Once there he grasped the frame and pulled himself free, spinning around, blocking Loki’s entrance, hunched in on himself.

 

“I’m fine.” He gasped, and smiled, his hands shaking on the frame and on the door, slowly closing it against Loki’s protests. “I’m fine – I’ll just be a minute.”

 

The door closed. The lock clicked.

 

It was an hour.

 

Loki listened, sitting on the bed, frozen. Listened as the water ran and ran. Listened to sounds of pain, muffled though they tried to be. Listened to retching. Listened to the water running again. And again.

 

At last it grew silent. At last the lock clicked, and the door slowly opened.

 

Loki was instantly on his feet and across the room, catching Thor under the arm, guiding him to the bed. He smelled of water and soap, his hair damp against Loki’s cheek. His body shook in Loki’s grasp, but he was silent as they made their way to the bed. With a grimace Thor caught the mattress and lowered himself down, crawling to his side, turning and sitting back, leaning his head against the headboard. His entire body sagged.

 

“What happened?”

 

Thor breathed deeply, his eyes closed. “Long day.”

 

Loki’s face was sharp. “What more than that?” he growled.

 

Thor sighed and opened his eyes and looked at him. A smile shot across his face, and he slapped a hand on top of Loki’s. “Nothing, Loki. I’m fine.” He said, and kept smiling. “Just a harder day. More difficult crowd.”

 

Loki stared hard at him, a rock growing inside his stomach, a knot of fear and horror and fury.

 

Thor bore no gladiator wounds. No scratches or scrapes, no bruises, no dirt.

 

“What have you done?” he hissed.

 

Thor looked at him and frowned. “What?”

 

“What did you do for me?” He was accusing, needing to know, angry at the many different kinds of deals he could imagine Thor making for _him_.

 

Thor saw the train of thought, read his anger, understood, and the smile dropped. His brows dropped. “Loki, you’re my brother.”

 

“That’s…!”

 

“You traded the tesseract for me.” Thor said, his brows still low, his voice even lower. “You traded you _life_ for me.”

 

The sentiment, the inflection, the meaning behind the words made Loki’s chest and eyes grow hot. Thor was not arguing with him, merely reminding him of what _he_ had been willing to sacrifice for _Thor_.

 

The understanding was clear.

 

But Loki’s heart still broke. “There are two Arenas.” He whispered, lips thinning, his eyes betraying him with their heat and moisture. “Which one have you been talking about?”

 

Thor’s brows were still low, his mouth soft and unsmiling. Then he swallowed, and his bright smile filled his face, his hand lifting and clapping on top of Loki’s, once, twice, and again. “Oh Loki.” He breathed, and his smile was wide and his eyes shimmered as they looked at his brother. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” He broadened his smile, even as a tear slipped out. “I’m fine.”


	3. Chapter 3

Loki was awake long before Thor. He had slept terribly, his mind loud, his heart racing, his blood rushing, his limbs cold. He slept and woke, slept and woke, and finally, as the first pale grey light began to filter in through their window, he rose.

 

His was cold with fury.

 

Thor stirred under the quilts, opened his eyes, and found Loki’s gaze on him. He smiled, face still creased from the pillow. “You’re up early.”

 

“I couldn’t sleep.”

 

Thor’s face fell a fraction, but he nodded. “Yeah, I understand.” He sat up, winced, and then proceeded more slowly. He made it to his feet and shuffled carefully to the bathroom.

 

A few minutes later he came out dressed and ready.

 

“How much longer?” Loki asked, standing at attention, hands clasped behind himself. He stared out of the window.

 

He heard the sound of Thor pulling on and tying his boots. “The Grandmaster said he figured it would take you four weeks to recover.”

 

The Grandmaster had ‘figured’. Loki clenched his teeth.

 

“You’re looking better and better, so he must’ve been right!” Thor said cheerfully, standing up.

 

“Thor.”

 

The sound of his brother’s boot-steps paused. “I’ll be back tonight, Loki. Have no fear!”

 

Loki did not respond.

 

The door closed behind him.

 

Alone now Loki grabbed anything he could find and threw it. Within reason, of course. They had to live here.

 

Maamen said nothing when she arrived, only started to clean up the mess.

 

“You knew.” Loki accused. His green eyes flashed.

 

She continued working.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?!?” he hissed.

 

She straightened and put some items back. “Would it have helped?”

 

“You should have _told me_!”

 

She sighed as the explosion of magic ruined her work. “It was his wish.”

 

“That doesn’t matter!”

 

She didn’t answer.

 

The day was not spent easily together. Loki was too worked up, too angry, knowing why she’d stayed silent and hating it all. The hours passed agonizingly slow, and now his imagination raced, with each passing hour, wondering what was happening right now, and then dashing away the thought because he _didn’t want to know_. Didn’t want to imagine it, think about it.

 

He would kill the Grandmaster.

 

He would burn this place to the ground.

 

* * *

 

For days it was their normal routine. Thor acted as if nothing had happened, as if he were just going and returning from work, his smile bright and his manner easy, and Loki loved and hated him for it. He was going crazy, he wanted to scream and rage, but he also desperately needed the normalcy to process everything. Maanen stayed with him during the day, cooked their food, tidied their rooms. When Thor returned these days he was already showered and clean. Loki didn’t know where he cleaned up, but when he returned he was all smiles and greetings, changed into his pajamas, and chatted with them over supper. It felt so _normal_.

 

Loki felt sick.

 

One night he woke up to an empty spot on the bed next to him, the covers thrown back, and a light on under the bathroom door. It was so quiet, but he could hear the sounds of retching, and the muffled sobs… gasps of air, small whimpers, more retching. Quiet, trying not to be heard.

 

The next morning, Thor was gone before the sun rose.

That night he and Maamen ate alone together. Thor’s plate was put away in the small cooler, his pajamas set out. Maamen turned down the lights, said good night, and left.

 

Loki lay down on top of the covers, ankles crossed, and stared up at the ceiling.

 

He had fallen asleep. He hadn’t meant to, but the dark and the silence and the waiting was exhausting, and he had slipped without intention. He woke suddenly when he heard a loud thump and a whimpering groan, and he shot up on the bed, just in time to see the guards closing the door behind them, and Thor pushing himself to his knees, shaking, crawling.

 

He crawled towards Loki.

 

Loki pushed himself up, made it half off the bed, and reached out to catch Thor’s hand as it stretched out. Thor’s other hand reached out, his fingers closed in the quilt, then on Loki’s knee, and he pulled himself partway up, his elbows on the mattress, Loki’s hand at his neck.

 

“Thor…” Loki breathed.

 

Thor looked up at him, shivering, haunted, and he smiled. “It’s okay, Loki.” He murmured, hand clasped in Loki’s, his other covering Loki’s forearm, clutching, shaking, knuckles white. He smiled.

 

Loki’s hand tightened around the back of his neck, green eyes pools of dismay, and Loki nodded. “It’s okay.”

 

Thor nodded too, smiling again, whispering, “It’s okay.” His eyes filled, smile broadening. “Only two more days, Loki.” He said, tears falling down his face, forcing cheer into his voice, but it came out wrong. “Only two more days.”

 

Loki nodded, pressing his forehead to Thor’s, rubbing the back of his head. “I know.” He whispered. “I know.”

 

“Only two more days.” The words came out as a sob.

 

“I know.” Loki’s closed his fingers in the back of Thor’s shirt. “It’s okay, Thor. I know.”

 

A sob tore free, deep and heartrending, and Thor laid his head on their hands, the tears pouring out of him, his shoulders shuddering, and Loki held him, hunched over his brother’s huddled form, his arms strong, as firm as rock, grounding them, his chin in Thor’s hair. Thor sobbed, broken and miserable, his grief and anger and pain pouring out of him and into Loki’s arms.

 

It would be okay.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

He was gone again before Loki woke, and the trickster cursed. He was not good company for Maamen, he knew, but she understood his foul mood and said nothing. Finally Loki studied her, and saw the grey, sunken circles under her eyes, lids red and swollen, the lines of her face deeply carved. He wondered how much more she knew, how much she had seen and heard that he hadn’t, and he almost asked. Almost demanded to know every detail of his brother’s suffering.

 

“You don’t want to know.” She whispered, her voice cracking.

 

He spun away.

 

He planned.

 

He was strong now. He had been exercising, eating heartily, practicing his magic. Everything to make himself stronger than ever.

 

He practiced his illusions.

 

Night came.

 

He worried. Ate a large supper. Watched the door.

 

Maamen said goodnight.

 

Loki still watched the door. Alone.

 

After last night… Another day, immediately…

 

His fears were well-founded. Once again the door was opened without knocking, and the guards, who had been supporting him, removed their arms and let him fall. Loki was at his side before the door had clicked shut, had pulled Thor’s arm over his shoulder, had wrapped his own arm securely around his brother’s waist.

 

Loki helped him to the bathroom. Turned on the shower, and before he could adjust it for temperature Thor had climbed in, hands on the walls, under the spray, fully clothed, water pouring over his head and face and body.

 

The water hid his shame. It hid his tears.

 

Loki honored his whispered request to be alone, but he waited outside of the door. He boiled water, prepared the tea pot, filled a cup with a generous amount of honey, listened closely.

 

When Thor came out, holding onto the door for support again, Loki was there. He gently helped Thor to the bed, where pillows had already been set up. He tucked the quilt over him, and then went and poured the steaming tea into the mug and mixed it into the honey. Thor accepted the cup, drank half of it, and then shut his eyes as treacherous tears at Loki’s gentle care slipped free. He swiped them away, but his smile was not as large as before. “I’m okay.” He whispered.

 

“I know.” Loki answered.

 

* * *

 

The next morning was the last day. At least, it was supposed to be. He knew the Grandmaster well enough not to trust it. The man would find some way to keep them here; he didn’t exactly care if a person wanted to take part in his games or not.

 

He saw Thor slip out, creeping silently, shutting the door without a sound.

 

Loki’s form was still under the quilt, breathing quietly.

 

Thor walked past the two guards and down the long hall, his face a mask, his eyes flat and burning. His long stride was difficult for anyone to keep up with.

 

Thor knew the route by heart, knew where to turn, what doors to go through. He entered a low door that led to a long, low tunnel. Thor went down the tunnel, and went out the other end. A loud cheer rose up at his entrance, calls and whistles deafening the ears.

 

Loki did not follow. He could hear sounds that would forever be burned into his mind, and he quickly turned away. Now he knew the way here, and could find his way back.

 

But first he had to cut the head off the snake.

 

* * *

 

The Grandmaster was lounging in his rooms, legs crossed, foot bouncing, talking to a lovely alien girl and eating grapes from her hand.

 

There was no one else in the room.

 

Loki narrowed his eyes, cold frost exiting on his breath, hatred burning in his gut. His sight narrowed and focused on the Grandmaster’s face.

 

They never knew he was there.

 

The girl he carefully laid to one side, away from the spatters and puddles of blood. Foolish sentiment, he supposed, but he had always been a gentleman. He’d made sure it was quick and painless. She never knew what happened.

 

Not so, the Grandmaster.

 

The next stop was the control room. Lewd remarks were made in his direction, but he just smiled and kept walking. No one questioned one of the Grandmaster’s maidens. He made his way into the control room and began chatting up the manager there, getting closer and closer.

 

A hand over the mouth, a quickly placed blade, and he let the body slump to the floor. Then he leaned over the computer panels and began typing. It took a while, longer than he would have liked, but he found it.

 

The countdown began.

 

He had ten minutes.

 

The way back took five.

 

This time he entered the low tunnel, followed it to the den of horror.

 

He’d been gone from here for thirty minutes.

 

But he was in time.

 

Drinks had been poured, and the crowds were only just gathering. It was still early in the morning. No one blinked as the control room manager strode through, glancing at the options, going straight for the Asgardian lounging at the bar, surrounded by a hungry crowd. Thor’s eyes widened with recognition, and a muscle jumped in his jaw when he saw the manager approaching. Fear danced behind his welcoming smile. Terror thrummed through the veins of the hand that accepted his.

 

Loki wished he could go back and kill the manager a second time.

 

He glanced around, saw doors surrounding the Arena, standing open, beds within. He took Thor’s hand and led him to one, the light of a window slanting across the bed, and he shut the door.

 

Thor knelt on the ground.

 

Loki dropped to his knees before him, and Thor reared back with a cry, slamming into the wall with Loki’s hand over his mouth and Loki’s other hand behind his head.

 

“Shh.” Loki hissed. “We have four minutes.”

 

Thor’s eyes were as large a dinner plates, his chest heaving, but he nodded and followed.

 

The manager and the Grandmaster’s maiden left the Arena. They went down the halls and through door, to the loading dock.

 

The ship was not a good one. It was not fast, it was not skillfully built, and it was not large, but it was waiting for them. It belonged to one of the many guests, Loki surmised, and was glad. Maamen gave Loki the pack of food and jug of water she carried. She hugged Thor and held his face and cried, begging for his forgiveness. He took her hand and pulled her, unprotesting, into the ship with them.

 

The ship thrummed to life, and Loki guided the ship out of the open doors, out into the blue sky, straight for one of the many portals.

 

Behind them, the central coils in the engine rooms overheated.

 

Thor’s hands went white on the arm rests as the tower exploded, pushing them forward with heat and wind and ash and debris, straight into the portal.

 

* * *

 

 

When they came to, they saw a beautiful blue and green planet, with satellites circling it, and a soft white moon orbiting slowly.

 

Loki pulled in a deep breath. He reached over, and covered Thor’s hand with his own, and Maamen covered both of theirs with both of hers.

 

Thor’s face was expressionless, except for his eyes, which stared at Loki with all the brilliance of the sun, tears trickling slowly down his cheeks. His jaw jumped, and he nodded.

 

Loki sighed. “ _Now_ ,” he said, his hand warm between Thor’s and Maamen’s. “It’s okay.”

 


End file.
